


Ready, Set, Go!

by pitypartyof1



Series: Musical Inspiration [3]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 18:48:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5101751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pitypartyof1/pseuds/pitypartyof1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonny just wants to make it home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ready, Set, Go!

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on Tokio Hotel's song "Ready, Set, Go!"

**_“Ready, set, go, it’s time to run! The sky is changing, we are one. Together we can make it while the world is crashing down. Don’t you turn around ... Leave it all behind you now, the final war is breaking out. We are what it’s all about. Nothing can stop us now. I promise you right now, I’ll never let you down.”_ **

—    **_“Ready, Set, Go!”_**

Jonny slaps the flashlight once more into his palm. The sound of it lingers for a moment. The light flickers, and then it dies. _Typical_ , he thinks as darkness engulfs him. Nothing ever happens the way it should. The backpack of supplies he carries seems to double in weight with his anxiety. The straps are cutting into his shoulders, but the risk is worth it. They need food and medical provisions.

An echo creeps out of the shadows to his left. _Stupid, stupid_ , he chastises himself, _shouldn’t have done that_ , s _hould’ve brought someone_. It’s too late now; he knew better when he volunteered. At the time, it seemed more important to risk as few people as possible. He’d asked to go alone. The sound of his flashlight had undoubtedly startled something here with him. He tries his best to calm his heart, let his innate knowledge kick in. He knows how to move through these streets as easily as the adrenaline flowing through his veins.

Slowly, he backtracks into the nearest doorway with an overhang, he waits. His heartbeat still thrums loudly in his ears, but his breathing is even. A clanging rings out, that of a metal trashcan lid knocked to the ground. Following the crash as it fades, a stray dog ambles out of the alley, nose to the street. _There’s no use_ , he thinks as he watches. His preoccupation with his thoughts stalls him, and it takes a moment for his brain to register what’s happened when the dog hits the ground. Electric blue feathers protrude from its side, and Jonny realizes it’s a Dart. An animal that small, that starved and emaciated, it didn’t stand a chance. It doesn’t even seize, just falls with a last, shuddering breath. _Good_. He’s seen it before, better to go fast than suffer slowly. The Dart is designed for humans. Nearly everything else is lifeless within minutes.

Boots crunch on gravel overhead, from the roofs, Jonny understands. Instinctively, he shrinks down even further, huddling in on himself. The noise above is accompanied by a gruff voice. “Just a dog, but we’re better safe than dead.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” another grits out. “Damn shame to waste a Blue on it, though.”

“We’ve got plenty,” the first man says dismissively. “Feels good to get a little target practice if nothing else.”

The second Watcher laughs.

 _So there’s more than one of them_. Jonny’s gut churns. The stupid dog had probably cost him his only chance to make it past the Watchers, back to the others. They have an unspoken rule, his group. Fail to make it back, and the group moves on. There will be no searching, like some groups do. If they find you later, they’ll try to get your chip out. That’s the only promise they offer. In this group, every man is on his own. They don’t live, they don’t die: they’re wraiths, they simply attempt to exist for as long as possible.

Jonny’s got less than two hours until they assume him lost. Sweat pricks his underarms, threatening to soak an already stained t-shirt. His hairline is saturated, and Jonny has never been so thankful that the Hunters were a short-lived species. Hunters would have scented him blocks from here. But, they couldn’t breed on their own, and the scientists who engineered them are gone, so the Hunters are gone, too. Just like everything is gone. Jonny takes a breath, holds it, feels like his entire life is simply _missing_. Running is all he knows how to do because if he stays still for too long, the ground will disappear from beneath his feet. He flashes to his parents. They stopped running, and they fell through the cracks of this hellish place. Forcing himself back to the future, Jonny rubs grit crusted palms into tired, strained eyes.

The immediate problem facing him is how to beat the Watchers. Two scenarios flit through his mind’s eye. Either way, he cannot leave the pack. He can try to run. Hope the element of surprise buys him the extra seconds he needs to lose them down one of the side streets he knows like the back of his hand. Or, he can do what he does best and _blend_. Long before he joined his group, he was alone here. Jonny learned how to become a part of the building he used for shelter, how to incorporate himself in the shadows. It’s a talent he wishes weren’t necessary. When David got snatched, he promised himself he would never… Never get caught; never stop trying to find him. And so, he learned.  

He turns, resting both forehead and palms against the cool stone, breathing deeply. Before memories can paralyze him, Jonny’s teeth clamp down on his inner cheek. Pain grounds him, and he readies himself to take action. There will be only one shot to safety, or as close as people like him ever get to something like it. Life hasn’t been safe for so long, he’s forgotten what it actually feels like.  To get there, he’ll have to be quieter than he’s ever been. The pack will make it a challenge, but Jonny’s never been one to back down. If anything, he relishes the test. Rolling his shoulders, he attempts to settle the pack more comfortably and securely.

 If he’s spotted, they’ll Dart him and give him a chip, just like David. If he fails, it’s a sure thing he’ll never see him again, and that’s almost unbearable. Jonny’s always held on to hope. Hope is what affords him the courage to say he can do this. Somewhere above, one of the Watchers snorts. It’s as if he can hear the thoughts racing through Jonny’s mind.

It sounds close, but senses can be deceiving out here in the emptiness. He learned that lesson when he lost David. Mom had made him promise to protect David. He’d thought they were safe. They weren’t. But he’s had time to practice since then. Jonny knows this Watcher must be at least one building south. The second Watcher is an unknown, however, and that worries him. There could be more that he doesn’t know about, but he doubts it. It’s time to go, now or never.

Carefully, he slides out from under cover of the stone, edges his way down. The brick rasps and catches against his shirt and arms. Scratches left behind sting and burn. He hugs the building’s façade, keeping to the darkness lurking there, and begins to move. Every step he takes is measured and evaluated, it must be. Silence will be his savior, if that’s even possible.

 Of course it’s much easier said than done in a city littered with quiet reminders of a war fought with the minds of men, with technology. The Darts are the only real outward weapons left. Some groups have salvaged real guns, but they’re nearly impossible to use. It’s just a tease, something to look longingly at. The crack of a gunshot is a beacon, calling all to its location. To fire one is suicide, they are always listening. Nearly three years after the initial takeover, Jonny’s beginning to wonder if there will ever be a way out.

Everything goes to shit when his sneaker scuffs a can, probably motor oil, from the look of the rusted husk rolling off. His freedom now depends on how fast his legs can carry him. They’ll be looking, if he hides, he’s done for. His feet slap harshly against the pavement, breath rushing into the night. Every leap brings the rise and fall of the backpack, wrenching into his shoulders, bottles inside clanking. Above, he can hear the Watchers recovering from the shock of his sudden appearance. They’re shouting, giving chase. Soon, his are not the only steps crashing onward into the night.  

“Stop!”

 _Can’t stop, can’t stop._ The mantra pounds to the beat of his heart.

“Shoot the motherfucker!” the second Watcher splutters.

The cough of a rifle sounds seconds later, and there’s a dull whump and skittering as the Dart collides with pavement and skitters away behind him. He doesn’t turn around to see how far off it was. Instead, he prays that the Watcher had stopped to fire, which would mean he gained precious seconds on them. Right now, he needs every advantage he can get. _I don’t believe in God_ , Jonny thinks as another Dart impacts in the darkness, _but it can’t hurt_. He prays for only the third time in his life, and hopes there’s someone there to hear it.  

Sprinting down streets he knew well as a child, a part of him longs to fall to his knees, let it all be over. In his mind, he can hear his mother’s voice saying _“don’t you dare.”_ And he knows she’s right, he can’t give up. Failure’s never really been a part of Jonny anyway; he’s not good at giving anything less than his absolute best. In the space of a moment, something slides beneath his shoe. His ankle rolls, and Jonny hits the ground hard, scrambles back to his feet, and cries out at the sharp pain that spikes through him as he places full, desperate weight on the injured limb. His vision sharpens and narrows, taking on a manic edge.

Sweat flows freely from his pores and his muscles burn as he skids around yet another bend, fighting to maintain his footing. He’s not far from home now, wasn’t that far away to begin with. Inhale, exhale, every breath burns through him. His body is not healthy, hasn’t had the nourishment it needs in far too long. This level of exertion won’t be sustainable for much longer. Already, his body is beginning to betray weaknesses. _Just a little further_. Coaxing his limbs to increase speed is a lost cause, he has nothing left to give.

The third Dart whizzing over his head scares the shit out of him. They’re getting closer. He spares a moment to realize he’s not going to make it, but he never stops running. At this point, he’s slowed considerably with the pain of his ankle. He pushes himself regardless.

“Lower,” one shouts, “shoot him!”

“I know, goddammit!”

Jonny hears the click as the Watcher reloads this time.

The fourth Dart, the final Dart, finds a home lodged in Jonny’s left lower back. He only feels a slight pinch as it sinks in, and fogginess overtakes him almost immediately, but not before he registers what it means. A small moan slips past dry lips, and he falls, face impacting the cement with a wet thud as a scream tears through the air. It does not belong to Jonny.

Yards away, Lindsey stands silhouetted in the dim light of the night. The others remain hidden inside, further on. They’d been alerted by Andrew, their guard that night, when he’d heard the echoing of multiple people running. Lindsey tried to break out then, but Duncan knew, he’d known for a while, and he snagged her. Forcefully, she’d ripped out of Duncan’s grip when she heard the shots, overtaken by panic. She never meant to fall in love with him. He had so much on his plate already, he’d lost so much. But, in the end, she couldn’t help herself. Maybe she’d have told him someday, but not now.

In the open, she’s an easy target, and the Watchers take her down quickly as she whispers Jonny’s name on repeat. Her fingers are stretched endlessly outward to his crumpled form as she, too, falls.

 


End file.
